


meeting in the middle

by civillove



Series: plans wrapped in rubber bands [23]
Category: Good Girls (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-02
Updated: 2019-07-02
Packaged: 2020-06-03 00:34:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19452718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/civillove/pseuds/civillove
Summary: Prompt from anon: can we get some veto & beth's dinner meeting with more jealous rio + Lauren’s: public touching + bathroom sex--They’ve had fights before, that’s not anything new, but there’s something about this one that digs deeper than all the others.It’s because they’ve come so far, they’ve pulled down one another’s walls, made bridges out of the brick instead and now it’s almost like an avalanche. They’re at an impasse, staring at one another from across the rubble, stuck on where to go next.





	meeting in the middle

**Author's Note:**

> AN: two more parts to go folks! Once again thanks for reading, sharing, leaving kudos or comments, so much appreciated.

Despite her initial anxiety, she knows taking the proper time to get the dealership back up and running is what’s best for work and for her. Ever since she took over the place from Dean, she’s been moving nonstop to make sure the transition was as easy as possible. Not only that, but a woman in the car dealership industry already has to work twice as hard to be taken seriously…so she didn’t want to stop for a single second, even to breathe.

As much as she doesn’t want to admit it, she feels like what happened with Ronald was some sort of sign for her to slow down. Most of the show floor is fixed, cars swapped out, glass swept up, new security system put into place—all that’s really left to do is her office.

She decides she wants an entire makeover, which is a pretty easy decision to make when everything was left in such a disarray. Her old furniture was destroyed, chairs, couch, desk—why fix new on top of old? So she also decides to get new carpet put in and paint the new desk she ordered. Luckily most of the windows were salvaged and she didn’t have to get a lot of new ones installed and she tries to reason with herself that it all could have been a lot worse.

Beth picks a bold statement of silverish-gray carpet, a modern look that’s not quite her but that she’s trying to embrace. She’s got plastic down on the floor, her new desk sitting white and unfinished as she tries to choose between two greens to paint it. She licks her lips, holding up two sets of swatches, tilting her head as her eyes go between the desk and her choices several times.

This is comforting, something monotonous that she needed to do to get her head back on straight. Besides, redoing her office will really make her feel like this is _her_ space, not adopted from Dean after she kicked him out.

Sometimes old memories of how he used to cheat on her _in_ that very office, on that desk, would rear its ugly head—which just made her feel even worse trying to get work done, be independent from that part in her life, and successfully lead her new dealership.

Naturally, Rio _also_ had her on top of that space but…it’ll feel nice to start fresh.

Beth hums under her breath as she taps a paintbrush against the two cans of paint she has on the floor next to her, seated cross legged in front of said desk, the underside of her thighs crinkling the plastic. She’s not budging until she figures this out; she made a decision that she would come in and paint today because there’s still so much more she needs to do.

So here she is, sitting on the floor in a pair of black shorts and a loose white t-shirt that has a few holes in it, hair tied back in determination because she _will_ paint this desk…if she can pick a green.

“Please don’t tell me you’re goin’ with that avocado color.”

Beth smiles and turns to see Rio over her shoulder, leaning against the doorframe of her office. He’s in a relaxed fit today, dark grey joggers, black tennis shoes and a black t-shirt covered with a black coat. He takes that and the beanie off that’s covering his ears, hanging them up on the coat rack before he walks inside.

His feet crinkle noisily against the plastic and he sits down beside her, letting out a soft sigh as he looks with distaste towards her color swatches. She flicks a color beside the one labeled ‘Avocado’,

“It has to be better than this one,” It looks like watered down pea soup, “which is called ‘Spring Awakening’.”

Rio scrunches his nose, glancing over at her desk, “What you got against a good wood finish?”

A soft laugh sneaks up out of her chest and she smacks the swatch off the end of his knee, “Did you come to help or judge?”

He smiles, just a little, hooking his finger around a curl in her hair to tuck it around her ear. “I’m great at multi-taskin’.”

She rolls her eyes but hands him a paintbrush, making an executive decision on ‘Avocado’ and opens the paint can with the wooden paint paddle. Giving it a good stir, she stands up and approaches the desk with a soft sigh, ready to get down to business.

When she looks at Rio, he’s watching her with keen interest, chewing on his lower lip as his eyes travel down her legs. “You know, this is a really good look for you.”

“Concentrate.” She points her brush at him and then sticks it into the can. “And make sure you paint from left to right.”

He lets out an exaggerated sigh and gets up, moving to stand on the other side of the desk. “You’re gonna get ugly little bubbles if you do that; it’s up to down.”

Beth frowns, pausing a moment as she runs her paintbrush on the outer edge of the can so she doesn’t drip with too much paint. “No, everyone knows it’s left to right.”

“And clearly you know a lot of people who are wrong.” Rio sticks his paintbrush into the can as well.

“Yeah, _including_ you.”

She pulls her paintbrush out and narrows her eyes, purposely flicking it towards him. A soft gasp leaves his lips as his shirt is dotted with avocado paint, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Oops.”

Rio’s mouth twitches with a smile even though he’s trying to remain very serious, his hand reaching for her hip and _tugging_ her forward. “Don’t start a battle you can’t win, ma.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s something only sore losers say.” She leans up to nip at his lower lip and he’s about to give her a reply when her phone dings with a text message.

He scoffs, shaking his head as she grins up at him and he leans down to eskimo kiss their noses before letting her go.

Beth wanders over to her purse on the coat rack, digging her phone out to see what the message says. A smile tugs at the ends of her mouth as she sees Rio start to paint her desk…left to right. She clicks on her messages app and pauses,

_Can’t do lunch like I thought. Let’s reschedule for dinner tonight—7PM, same place._

She lets out a long sigh and texts back a confirmation reply, glancing up at Rio before putting her cell phone back and joining him at the desk. She begins to paint as well, the silence gathering between them a comforting combination with her brush strokes. It’s probably better that this Veto thing has been rescheduled for tonight so she doesn’t have to stop in the middle of this to get ready for a lunch meeting but…she still has to tell Rio that she’s going.

Without him.

When they talked about what happened at the warehouse when Rio was sick, she never mentioned that Veto wanted to have lunch with her, or the way Carlita mentioned Marcus and she’s not quite sure why she felt like she had to keep these things a secret. A lot has been bubbling underneath the surface and it’s been easier to redirect conversations to business—how Ronald had died, how many cars they needed to get to, when they needed them by. But because she’s let it all build up, she feels anxiety wrap around her like a blanket of glass, sharp and painful…at this point she should know better than to bottle.

Because it never ends well.

She pauses amidst her administrations, watching the muscles in Rio’s forearm flex as he focuses on his one side. Beth hopes they can meet in the middle somehow and it look alright.

“That was Veto. He wants to have dinner tonight, go over projections. It was supposed to be a lunch but something came up.”

Rio stops, just for a moment, but he doesn’t look up at her as he dips his paintbrush into the paint again. “Oh I’m sure.”

She waits a moment, just watching him, crossing her arms over her chest because she expects…more. She’s not quite sure what but this? isn’t it. He’s quiet as he continues to paint and she’s not sure whether she thought he’d be annoyed that she waited until now to tell him or insist that she’s not going alone.

Either way, this silence isn’t a good sign.

“No arguments about going with me?” She presses, hopefully not too hard but he’s doing that thing where he’s saying more with his body language than with his words.

Rio straightens his back, lifts his head to look at her, his shoulders a little tight as he puts his paintbrush into the can of paint, “You did the last meetin’ just fine without me, what you can’t handle orderin’ appetizers on your own?”

She holds his gaze for a long moment because there’s something on his face that she recognizes even though she doesn’t see it often, an expression she’s seen before at the bar when she was playing darts with that random guy. She _knows_ it has something to do with that but she’s also aware that if she calls him out on it, it’ll backfire—and the only person that hurts is herself.

But that doesn’t mean she’s not going to try.

“You’re not going to tell me that this bothers you?”

He licks his lips, pulling the paintbrush out of the can, taking his time to wipe off excess against the side. “Nothin’ is botherin’ me. Other than the fact that you chose these shades of green for your desk.”

“You don’t think I can do it?” That has nothing to do with their conversation but she’s aware that it’s been a little one-sided lately—they’re supposed to be partners in this deal and Veto keeps, very purposely, separating them.

“We both know that you can.”

“I wouldn’t want you going to dinner with Carlita.” And she knows that’s such a bad example to use because the minute it leaves her mouth, Rio’s demeanor shifts. He puts the paintbrush down, a soft sigh leaving his nose as he looks at her, bricks in his hands as he contemplates building that wall back up that separates her and his past.

Shit.

This is supposed to be about her and Veto because she wants Rio to admit that anytime he makes a comment about them it’s rarely about work—it’s always some snide remark about Veto hitting on her. Wouldn’t he feel better if he just admitted he was a little jealous? Maybe even possessive? This thing between them is still convoluted and unresolved but this might be the push they need to further define what they are, to leave that shade of grey behind despite the fact she keeps reasoning with herself that she’s fine there.

And all of that derails when Beth mentions Rio’s past.

“If Carlita’s botherin’ you then that’s on _you_.” His voice is firm. “She’s always been good at that. If she’s under your skin that’s because you let her get there.”

Really? What is that supposed to mean? That’s she’s just supposed to ignore her or pretend nothing bothers her? Because clearly that works so well for him. She crosses her arms over her chest, chewing on the inside of her cheek.

“Well, you would know.”

Tension pulls the lines of him tight, he’s angry, that muscle working in his jaw as he fights to control what’s coming out of his mouth. “How many times are we gonna have to talk about this?”

And maybe the same thing she wants from him is something she has to work on too. She knows what it's like to have something just to lose it, to see a relationship slip through her fingers and disintegrate before her very eyes—and not even realize it until it was too late.

“Until it sounds like you don’t care about her,” She presses, her voice a little shrill in the small space of her office.

It’s unfair, she _knows_ it’s not fair, and yet they keep coming to this moment like a bottle that’s been shaken too much.

The problem is simple: she's happy and satisfied and her partnership is successful but that’s just more for her to lose. She's scared and she's angry because Carlita somehow still has a hold over Rio with their shared history after all this time—even after doing something as violent as stabbing him.

He was angry once, sure, maybe even vindictive. But time distorts emotions and the way he talks about her now? he's still impressed with her, still knows and admires how she works. Their relationship ended terribly but it doesn't change their shared history and that’s what keeps getting under Beth’s skin, that’s what Carlita keeps throwing into her face.

Rio scoffs, something nasty brewing behind his teeth because he doesn’t like being told how to feel and he certainly doesn’t like his buttons being pressed. She’s lighting the short fuse he has and this conversation has quickly spiraled out of her control like sand slipping through her fingers. If she just would have _told_ him about what happened at the meeting in the first place…

She swallows, running a hand over her face, “She mentioned Marcus to me, okay? So yes I let her get under my skin.” Beth’s not proud that she let this fester, either, past the point of no return. “I didn’t realize she knew him.”

“Elizabeth,” His teeth are grounding together, like he’s trying not to lose his patience but she can hear what sounds like a rubber band snapping as the words leave his mouth— “I knew her for four _years_ , what part are you havin’ trouble with?”

His voice digs between her ribs and cracks them open; he’s not only angry, he’s upset that once again she’s tried to forcibly dig her way into his past and demand an explanation. She can’t trust him and then question his motives at the same time—that’s not how this works.

“Of course she knows about him. You gotta quit actin’ like you’re the only woman who’s been in my life.”

“I just don’t understand how you can even look the person in the eyes who stabbed you—”

And then something shifts; Rio’s hand comes down on the desk, hard, the sound echoing in the tiny space. She jumps, her heart slamming up out of her ribcage and into her throat as he takes a step closer to her.

This conversation is over, his body wound too tight with string, his jaw clenching as his eyes bore holes into her.

“And you love to remind me of that,” He towers over her, just a little, their height difference crackling in the air like electricity. “I’m done listenin’ to you talk about shit you don’t understand.”

She can feel the heat of his body he’s so close, the gentle breath of his words fanning against her forehead and then suddenly as quickly as he appeared, he’s gone, moving towards the door to her office. He grabs his jacket, throwing it on before sticking the beanie in his back pocket.

“History doesn’t just go away because you don’t fuckin’ like it.” He snaps and slams the door shut upon leaving.

Beth sighs, her entire body deflating, soft trembles left in her muscles as she stares at the desk. His handprint is visible in the paint and she closes her eyes before quickly grabbing a brush to cover it up.

If only it were so easy with everything else.

\--

The last place Beth wants to be is at this dinner.

She can’t stop thinking about how her and Rio left things this afternoon, the tension that’s still hard and rough against her shoulders like sandpaper, words they’ve said to one another ringing in her ears. They’ve had fights before, that’s not anything new, but there’s something about this one that digs deeper than all the others.

It’s because they’ve come so far, they’ve pulled down one another’s walls, made bridges out of the brick instead and now it’s almost like an avalanche. They’re at an impasse, staring at one another from across the rubble, stuck on where to go next. This is a conversation they have to have, one way or another, despite how it ended.

Beth needs to accept that the past is where it belongs and you’d think she’d understand the concept of trying to drudge up memories buried deep in mud—all you get is dirty. But Rio also has to understand where she’s coming from—this Carlita stuff is old news to him but it’s complicated for her, especially with them trying to define what it is they are to one another.

She’s distracted to say the least as Veto talks, glass of wine in his hand, and it takes her a moment to realize he’s asked her a question when he just stares at her. Her cheeks pink a little before she clears her throat,

“Sorry?”

He smiles softly and she scrapes her fork along her dessert plate through a trail of raspberry glaze that was on top of her cheesecake. “Trouble in paradise?”

Beth swallows and straightens up in her seat; the last thing she’s going to tell him is that her and Rio are having problems. “No, just tired.”

He hums softly, taking a sip of wine before he orders an espresso from the waitress, leaning back into his seat. He doesn’t believe her; she can see it on his face—then again she’s not being entirely convincing.

“It must be hard working with someone who’s been doing this a lot longer than you.” She stares at him, putting her fork down as her fingers play with the napkin on her lap underneath the table. “Partners come and go.”

Beth isn’t sure why he’s saying something like that—is he talking about Carlita and Rio and how he has a new partner now? How it wouldn’t surprise him if it didn’t work out between the two of them and Rio looked elsewhere? Or that she deserved someone else? That she eventually would run into the same problem, that Rio would become her Carlita and that’s the way their story ends?

With blood and regret and years of baggage before finding someone new.

She clears her throat after a moment, “With all do respect, that’s not me and Rio.”

Beth watches the waitress set down his espresso and he takes the time to add a little bit of sugar, stirring it in before taking a sip. She’s never understood the appeal to something so bitter and pungent and despite wanting a coffee with her dessert, there’s no reason to drag this dinner out. They’ve already finished talking about the projections for the end of the month, her guarantees for the cars in the warehouse, how the dealership is coming together after the break in—she’s just biding her time before the check comes.

Veto watches her for a moment, eyes tracing over her face, a shiver coursing down her spine despite the restaurant being at a decent temperature. He doesn’t say anything to her disagreement but his silence speaks to her well enough—he doesn’t see them working out. And maybe she’s naïve to this business to think otherwise but she has to trust in their ability as partners because, if nothing else, they’ve proven they can do that well.

“Well, I hope you’re right,” He offers her a small smile, finishing his espresso before waving down the waitress for the check. Beth lifts up her purse, intent on getting her wallet but Veto waves his hand in her direction. “Already taken care of.”

She sets her purse down on her lap, nodding her head. “That’s very kind of you, thank you.”

He leans forward onto the table, his elbows at the very edge as he assesses her. “I was hoping you could make it up to me by listening to another business proposition.”

Beth already knows she wants nothing to do with this but she nods her head politely, picking up her wine glass. “What did you have in mind?”

Veto runs his thumb along the stem of his glass, “It’d be a lot of odds and ends jobs, pick-ups, deals, but you’d also be working for me and I’m not exaggerating when I say I have meetings with a lot of powerful and influential people,” He licks his lips. “The outcome for you could be great…”

She thinks about that for a moment, really considers it, a thought rolling around her mind. She has to admit that she never thought about where this partnership with Rio ends, what it looks like when they get there—if she’ll decide to start something new, maybe on her own. She could do it, she thinks, if she learned enough by the time they were finished. Veto’s impressed with her; she could meet and work with others who felt the same way.

Beth doesn’t want that, not yet…but maybe one day? Being her own boss?

She can’t say that the thought hasn’t crossed her mind. 

But she already knows it wouldn’t be worth it, at least not with Veto—while Rio is inherently a good man, Veto is _not_ , and all she can think about is the bruise on Carlita’s face.

Veto continues after a moment, “Maybe even exposure to start something new for yourself without…certain things holding you back.”

She bristles because he’s very obviously talking about Rio and she feels a wave of protectiveness swell into her chest as she puts her napkin on the table and stands. “I think we’ve taken care of all we need to.”

Beth turns and he reaches out and gently takes her wrist into his hand, stopping her, letting go as she faces him. “If I offended you, I apologize.” He says and there’s something earnest about his tone but she doesn’t understand him.

What does he want? He wants to work with her, without Rio so that she can…get her own business started? None of it makes that much sense. She appreciates, at least, the sense of confidence he seems to have in her—but it’s saturated in something _else_ that makes her skin crawl.

“Until the end of the month,” She nods her head, “Goodbye, Veto.”

Beth makes her way through the restaurant, letting out a long sigh as she gets outside, the cool air kissing her heated skin. She runs a hand down her black dress, gathering the bottom between her fingertips just so that she has something to distract herself as she walks back to her van.

She could really go for another drink.

\--

Rio can sense her before he even has a chance to put his keys down after closing his apartment door. He sighs and looks to the ceiling because…does he really deserve this shit right now? He’s just completed a run with Aviles and he’s sore, irritable and has zero patience to deal with her naggin’ him in _his_ apartment.

He takes his beanie off his head and sticks it into the back pocket of his jeans, rolling his shoulders as he walks into his kitchen where she’s waiting for him, sittin’ on his counter with a mug of tea between her legs.

“So let me get this straight; you were pissed I broke into your apartment and yet here you sit drinkin’ my tea.” He unplugs the tea kettle and turns to look at her.

Carlita smiles, a softer version of herself displayed in front of him—no makeup, long hair curled into a loose bun, skinny black jeans and a white t-shirt. He’s seen her this way so many times, they pinprick the back of his memory and he has to force himself to look away.

“I figured it was only fair.” She shrugs her one shoulder and brings the mug up to her lips. “You’re out of English Breakfast.”

Rio tilts the empty tea tin forward and rolls his eyes, straightening his back a little as he hears her hop off the counter. This is what he gets for not overstockin’ when he realized Elizabeth only drank black tea. He licks his lips and considers having a cup himself but he’d rather drink something stronger.

But he can’t leave until he gets rid of—

He turns around and leans against the counter, both of his hands squeezing the edge until the marble bites into the palms of his hand. “There a reason why you’re buzzin’ around my apartment like a fruit fly?”

She pouts, her lower lip full and his gaze flickers over it for a moment. “Someone’s in a mood, did you and suburban mom have a fight?” Carlita touches his shoulder, squeezes the tense muscle there for a moment and rubs her thumb into his collarbone.

He gently pushes her hand away, steppin’ out from the cage she’s trying to create with her body, somethin’ he also knows how to do far too well. Frustration heats up under his skin and bubbles along his nerve endings because he really can’t avoid this fuckin’ conversation today—it’s followin’ him around like a black cloud.

Rio picks up her tea and purposely spills it down the sink and presses a button he shouldn’t by saying, “Jealousy does nothin’ for you, Carlita.”

She scoffs out a laugh, clearly offended by his conclusion jumpin’, “I’m not _jealous_ of her.”

“Nah?” He asks, tilting his head at her. For as much as Carlita enjoys digging underneath people’s skin, she doesn’t like the tables turned on her, “Then why are you mentionin’ my son to Elizabeth?”

There’s a flicker of somethin’ on her face, a shadow that passes over her expression and he’s got her, he knows he’s got her. After all this time, he knows how to read her, has finally cracked the braille written on her pages.

He takes a step towards her and she mimics one back, her eyes trained on his, this little dance they do embedded under their skin. It’s like fallin’ into a memory, dark and warm but distant, like watching a movie through an old projector. This is textbook Carlita; all talk, hurt feelins’ underneath. Well she’s got a lot of damn nerve to be the one who’s wounded, who’s jealous _or_ possessive after all this time—he don’t owe her jack shit.

And if she thinks for one moment he’s goin’ to forgive her then she’s got another thing comin’.

She licks her lips, “I was wonderin’ about him,” She says after a moment, “I did love him at one point.”

And that, _that,_ boils like a tea kettle in Rio’s chest. He pushes her back against the counter, his words cutting deep like knives, “Nah. You don’t get to do that. I know what you’re doin’ and it don’t got nothin’ to do with Marcus.”

All this time, Elizabeth’s been worried about Carlita—how he _feels_ about Carlita. Yeah, the past is heavy and it sits on his chest like a cinder block, especially when he sees her. Because it ended badly, she left him for dead, but before that? they were good. They were partners. They were _more_ than just partners. Seein her? Working with her while she works for Veto? It’s hard for him to distinguish the past from the present, all the lines are blurrin’ over and sometimes he feels himself slippin’ into old habits.

But really? this has nothin’ to do with him. Once he pushes Carlita’s pages to the side and exposes her spine, it’s as clear as day: she is threatened by Elizabeth and what she means to him.

Carlita looks up at him, eyes wide enough to dive into—and he almost does. He’s reached her core, stuck his hand in and _squeezed._ He’s seen her sad before, gut wrenchin’ sadness like when she lost her brother, and he remembers that he always thought she looked beautiful even in despair.

Now? it’s pathetic.

He leans in close, very purposefully, digging his own brand of knife a little deeper— “This is done,” His voice is pitying, his hand moving so that his fingers trace the side of her face, curling her hair around her ear, “Meddlin’ in my relationship is not gonna end well for you, understand? I still have yet to settle our score.”

Rio pulls back and licks his lips, letting out a soft sigh, distant and disinterested. He straightens his back, eyes glazing over her form. She can barely look at him, cheeks flushed, body wound tight like a rubber band and shakin’ ever so slightly.

“I’m goin’ into my bedroom and you best not be here when I get back.”

He turns and walks out of the kitchen and towards his bedroom, slipping into the closet. When he pulls out a maroon Henley from one of his drawers, he hears the front door open and close.

\--

Beth lets out a soft sigh as she pushes the door to the bar open with her shoulder, wandering in on a busy night, eyes scanning to look for some space at the counter. She rolls her head to the side, massaging the side of her neck as she squeezes past a few college kids yelling about shots. In retrospect, she probably should have chosen a slightly quieter place, a headache starting to brew at the back of her skull that isn’t being helped by loud music and stale beer but…

This is their bar, despite the last time they spoke to one another, and it’s somehow comforting to be here.

Beth eyes a girl at the end of the bar getting up and she quickly takes her spot before someone else can, a soft sigh leaving her lips as she settles onto the barstool.

“Lemme guess, bourbon on the rocks?”

She turns and looks to her right, Rio leaning his elbows along the bar, already a drink in front of him. Her mouth opens a little, eyes traveling down the long planes of his back in a maroon Henley, hugging his muscles perfectly. He’s paired it with black jeans and honestly? it’s not fair. She’s surprised she didn’t even notice him before she sat down.

She licks her lips and fixes her purse around her shoulder, tugging her dress up a little because it’s twisted awkwardly around her thighs. She doesn’t say anything for a moment before she nods and Rio waves down the bartender to give him her order.

“Funny running into you here.”

He smiles just a little, his eyes tracing over her curves down her dress; he doesn’t have to use words to tell her that he likes it. She swallows, her cheeks flushing and she hates that he’s so capable of taking her apart without even touching her.

“Well this is our bar, isn’t it?”

A soft laugh slips out from Beth’s throat and she looks at the drink set in front of her, her blush working its way to the back of her neck. “I was uh, I was really drunk when I said that.”

He hums and lifts his glass of whiskey to take a small sip, teasing around his tone, “So you didn’t mean it, or?”

Beth rolls her eyes, her hand wrapping around her glass of bourbon. She takes a small sip and lets the alcohol roll down her throat, a heated grip, soothing as it settles in her stomach. Whatever she’s about to say is drowned out by an extremely drunk guy bumping into her from behind. She knows that the bar is crowded and it was bound to happen sooner or later but she hates that it’s enough to jostle her drink in her hand, liquid spilling over the edge onto her dress.

She gasps and the guy looks over his shoulder, laughs, and gets _manhandled_ by Rio who shoves him further down the bar. He quickly hands her some napkins so she can pat herself dry, slightly distracted by the fact that the drunk guy comes _back_ with his chest puffed out like he’s going to do something about it.

All Rio has to do is stand up from the bar stool, encroaching into her space a little as his one hand settles on the edge of the bar as the other dangles next to his side, fingers flexing. She looks up at him as his chest brushes against her shoulder, a smile pulling on the edges of his mouth but she understands his body language well enough to know that he’s not amused.

And just like a shadow passing over the other guy’s face, he clears his throat and sinks back, apologizing to Beth in one quick word before making his way down the bar. She feels heat crawl underneath her skin as Rio sits back down and orders her another drink since the one that spilled is pretty much empty.

“You good?” He asks and she chews on her lower lip because _yeah_ she’s more than good and nods her head.

Once again, she’s captivated by that side to Rio that’s a little bit rough, a little bit possessive and she can’t help but admit that with all of this Carlita stuff going on? It’s nice to feel him express that towards her because if anything, he’s always been more telling with his touch rather than what he says.

Beth clears her throat sits a little further back onto her stool, opening her legs just slightly before running her hand down the fabric of her dress which sits at the top of her knees. This is probably a bad idea, but she can’t seem to stop it once it’s entered her mind and says something that’s going to very deliberately push Rio’s buttons.

“I think you were right about Veto…” Rio takes a sip of his whiskey, a soft crease appearing between his eyebrows before he realizes what she’s saying. “only wanting one thing.”

His eyes scan over her like he’s somehow missed something important, his hand coming down to rest on her knee. “Did he…”

And there it is again, something _electrically_ charged in the way he implies that Veto might have crossed a line and it reaches into her stomach and squeezes.

“No,” She says quickly and presses her knee just a little towards him so his hand moves. Rio’s eyes snap down to the action, his fingers now curled along her inner thigh and it takes him a moment to piece together what’s going on—

But once he figures it out? His gaze looks back up at her, filled with darkened amusement and he leans a little closer before picking up his whiskey glass with his other hand.

“It’s just how he talks to me.” Beth continues, her thumb running along the condensation of her own glass when the bartender brings her another.

It’s always been amazing to her how calm and collected Rio can be; whether it’s during a drop, or a meeting, threatening to kill someone _or_ being threatened—and now it’s sneaking his hand up her dress in a public place.

His expression is unchanging, like he’s discussing the weather when he asks, “So I’m assumin’ you won’t be havin’ any more private dinners with him.”

She’s about to reply to him but his hand moves quickly, the cool contrast of the ring on his finger making a shiver course down her spine. It’s almost surreal, doing this in a public bar, only being a few feet away from where they fucked for the first time—Dean waiting and paying the bill with his stupid cellphone flashlight on. Her hips move forward, just a little, Rio’s fingers grazing the outline of her underwear against already moist flesh and the words get stuck very literally in her throat.

“You gonna answer me, or?” His voice is against the shell of her ear, raspy in a way that turns her on even more.

Beth clears her throat and picks up her glass of bourbon, trying to act natural, taking a slow sip and replying with a soft ‘no’ because that’s all she can manage.

“That’s good.” Rio licks his lips and hums, staring straight ahead like he’s not teasing her clit through the outside of her underwear.

He’s too good at this, she realizes, thinking back to the time where he made her cum over the phone as he sat in a café—probably ordering a tea from the waitress at the same time and over-tipping when he left. 

She opens her legs a little more, the fabric of her dress soft and wide at the bottom, allowing her to do it without becoming too noticeable. Still, it’s funny, the way she feels like everyone’s eyes are on them but a quick glance around tells her that _no one_ notices—which just makes heat pound faster at her center, Rio’s fingers finally slipping inside her underwear.

She nearly chokes on her own tongue, coughing a moment before taking a sip of her drink and Rio smirks—the _bastard,_ sliding his one finger inside of her and pausing so it doesn’t overwhelm her. How thoughtful. Her cheeks are flushed and her breathing is a little heavy, she can feel it, her paranoia making her re-position her purse so it’s over her lap even though the bar is dark and loud and no one gives a shit about them.

The bartender approaches them with a menu, offering Rio a small smile, “Did you guys want any food? Kitchen’s closing up.”

He takes the menu like he actually cares, pursing his lips together as he scans the appetizer list. “I dunno, you want food, ma?”

Of course, _of course_ he’s really going to make her answer, looking over at her with an innocent expression as his finger circles her clit. “I uh—” She glances at the menu but the words on the page don’t even register. Fuck she’s…

She rolls her hips forward and makes it look like she’s shifting positions on the stool, Rio giving her an expectant look as he waits for her response, his finger picking up speed as heat starts to boil over inside of her.

“No, I’m not hungry.” Beth says quickly, running a hand over the back of her neck.

“I think we’re good.” Rio agrees, handing the menu back to the bartender, who’s giving her a once over.

“Sweetie, you look a little flushed, you want some water?”

A whine most _definitely_ sneaks it’s way out of Beth’s lips but luckily she thinks the bar is too loud to really make it out and she suddenly sits up straight as pressure builds and builds, her hand coming down on Rio’s wrist and squeezing—hard—

“I’m fine, drank this a little too fast, I think. I’m going to splash some water onto my face.”

His hand slips free out from under her dress, Beth not even looking at him as wobbly legs take her away from the bar and into one of the bathrooms. Her feet are kind of sticking to the floor and it smells like stale beer and lemon soap and really, this is one of the last places she thought she’d find herself again. She sets her purse on the side, leaning against the sink and it doesn’t take him long to find her.

Rio sneaks inside, déjà vu wrapping around their bodies as she watches him through the mirror, leaning against the door, his eyes equally trained on her. She turns, reaches past him to lock the door and the moment it slips into place, her lips are on his.

She kisses him hard, Rio not wasting any time to pick her up and set her on the sink, his hand tearing her underwear off and throwing them to the side. His one hand clasps the side of her neck as her hands make work of his jeans, tugging them down and reaching inside to grip his cock.

He groans against the sensation, thrusting into her hand and she shifts her hips so she’s closer to the edge of the sink. Rio moves his lips to her neck, suckling the skin there and a loud moan that she doesn’t try to hide slips from her lips as he slides inside her. Her clit is swollen and sensitive, her entire body _aching_ for him to begin moving and he’s taking too fucking long—

“Please, Rio,” She doesn’t even care that she’s begging, fingers fisting the back of his shirt at his shoulders, “Please.”

He shushes her gently, arms wrapping around her back so that she’s as close to him as she can get before doing what she’s asked. Unfortunately, because she’s so worked up, it doesn’t take her very long to cum—clenching down around him as she buries her face in his shoulder. Rio’s right behind her, thrusting until he loses it, his breathing rapid and heated against her neck.

He doesn’t pull out right away and instead presses their foreheads together, his hand cupping her cheek before their lips meet in a soft, intimate kiss. Someone banging their fist on the door that they’ve got to pee ruins the moment however and a giddy sort of laugh leaves Beth’s lips as she covers her mouth with her hand.

Rio smirks as he backs up, handing her underwear back with a few paper towels to clean herself up before they inevitably have to unlock the door and leave the bathroom.

\--

Beth takes in a big breath of air into her lungs as she steps outside, stretching her arms up over her head. Her skin is still warm and a little bit sweat kissed so the gentle breeze feels amazing even though a shiver travels down her back. She opens her purse to dig for her car keys when she sees Rio come up beside her, reaching his hand out to her.

“C’mon, I’ll have Aviles pick up your van.”

She looks down at his hand a moment and nods, letting hers settle against his palm, their fingers lacing loosely as he tugs her towards his car. He runs his thumb gently along her knuckles, pausing to open the back-seat door so he can fish out a hoodie. He drapes it around her shoulders and pulls her close, a soft laugh tumbling out of Beth’s mouth as she stumbles towards him.

There’s a soft smile on his lips but it looks barely there, like one gust of wind will blow it away, his eyes tracing along her face before he maneuvers her hair out from under the hoodie. Beth works to push her arms through the sleeves; he’s watching her differently and she can tell something’s wrong just by the way he’s holding himself before he leans back against the car.

“What?” She asks softly, playing with the zipper at the bottom.

Rio runs a hand over his jawline, working through a thought that he’s not sure whether he wants to share or not. They’ve been there before; she knows how hard it is sometimes to be honest with her, to give her pieces of himself that he’d rather keep under lock and key. But she’s patient, she waits, because it has to all be worth something—right?

“About what I said…this afternoon,”

Beth looks down at the pavement like it’s somehow more interesting, his words about her not understanding anything and history not disappearing just because she doesn’t like it ringing in her ears. She curls her hair around her ear and shakes her head. She pressed too hard.

“No, you were right—”

“Will you just—” He puts his hand up, teetering on that invisible line that allows him to open up or clamp down hard, not letting anyone in. “Let me talk.”

Beth nods, wrapping her arms around herself as she moves to lean next to him. Rio turns to face her, pressing his shoulder into the frame of his car, letting out a soft sigh,

“Carlita had a brother, he was two years younger than her. Wild, protective, funny too,” There’s a soft smile on his face from a memory she won’t ask about but she’s paying attention to his language, the use of ‘was’, she knows whatever this is? It doesn’t end well.

“He was in deep with some cartel shit,” He pauses for a moment, his eyes flickering up to Beth’s. “He died.”

Beth opens her mouth but no words come out, her heart aching in her chest as the realization of what he’s saying settles under her skin. She can’t imagine what that must have felt like, how devastating—she would _never_ be able to even consider the idea of losing Annie. And with Carlita’s brother involved in something like the cartel? She can assume that his death was anything but peaceful. She wants to ask if Rio was there when it happened but it’s clear that he was, the way he talks about it, the darkness pooling in his eyes.

She pictures the moment Carlita learns about it, can’t help it, piecing something together in her mind of extreme loss and grief. Was it a phone call? Or someone telling her? Did the cartel send her messages—

Her eyes close tightly and she swallows, trying to shake the idea from her mind. God, it must have been terrible for her.

“She was devastated and it changed a lot about her,” Rio’s quiet a moment, tense lines building along his shoulders that she wants to rub out but isn’t sure she should touch him right now.

She doesn’t know why she didn’t suspect this before, that the Carlita Rio knew wasn’t the same as the one they were working with now—that people change no matter how often they stay the same. Beth thinks about herself, how far she’s come, how different she’s been since she met Rio and started working with him. And on top of that, what if she lost Annie or even Ruby? How changed would she be then? Would she even recognize herself?

“She wanted to feel in control and wouldn't listen to me when I said we'd take care of it together.” 

There’s frustration there, gliding along his syllables but it’s hiding a bigger emotion; he’s _hurt._ She gets it now, why her nightmare had thrown him off balance because it was all about trust and him losing it. He wanted Carlita to trust him, to trust that they could figure something out together and she didn’t.

“That wasn’t good enough for her, she wanted to be a part of it, figure out how to take it apart from the inside.” He licks his lips, looking away from her, a smile on his lips that’s not warm or comforting. “She didn’t realize that the initiation ritual would be just as archaic as her brother dying. Brutal.”

Beth holds her breath, somehow knowing where this is going, her eyes trailing down his chest to his side, lower back—right where she knows that scar is. He catches her gaze with his own and nods slowly, reaching for her hand and tilting his shirt up. Rio forces her to touch the scar, her body trembling as the thin white line brushes against the pads of her fingers.

“She had to kill someone she loved.”

He lets go of her hand, emotion welling in her chest as she squeezes her eyes shut. Beth feels everything she wants to say stick inside her lungs, whirl around like a small hurricane, nothing coming to mind yet everything bubbling at the end of her tongue. Out of everything she thought this was…this is the last thing she expected to hear and guilt starts to work it’s way like a fog, dense and all encompassing, around her heart and pulling at the strings.

No wonder he didn’t want to tell her—no wonder why he said she didn’t understand.

She bites down on her lower lip, hard, because she wants to ask so many things; _did she know she didn’t kill you? Did she mean for it to not be fatal? Did she do it wrong? What happened with the cartel?_

_Did you love her back?_

She lets out a slow breath, opening her eyes and nodding, “So, that’s how you look at her in the eyes.” Her voice sounds odd, a little bit above a whisper, crushed in certain places.

Rio bites down hard on the inside of his cheek, the muscles in his jaw working, and she brings her hand up to cup the side of his face. “Yeah, Carlita meant somethin’ to me.” It’s almost interesting that he says it that way, like he has his own ghosts to worry about—because he doesn’t outright say he loved her.

And maybe he didn’t and that’s why it feels so much worse.

He tugs a little at the hoodie she’s wearing, clearing his throat, “That’s not us.”

She nods and hesitates before taking a step towards him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. Beth presses herself against him, feeling how his body automatically tenses up but she doesn’t let go. Then, like a dam breaking, his muscles contract and he relaxes, his face falling into her shoulder.

She squeezes him, her hand rubbing along the back of his shoulders before resting against the nape of his neck, cradling the back of his head. Another moment passes before Rio’s hands move to ground themselves against her hips, letting out a long breath against her.

Beth’s not sure how long they stand there before they pull apart, taking their time to get into Rio’s car and drive back to his apartment. She leans her head back against the leather seat, allowing her eyes to close for a moment, his hand finding her knee as he drives.

This Carlita chapter has closed, she _sees_ who she is now, and she’s not a threat to her on a business or personal level. Beth gets where she’s coming from, _I know what it’s like to just want to be in control of your own life._ Carlita wanted her to think that she was another version of her, that her and Rio would end up in the same toxic space that their relationship ended.

And while she almost understands what it must feel like to see Rio with someone else after all this time, after what she did to him, Beth can agree with what he’s said: _That’s not us._

There’s comfort in the fact that even though they haven’t given this thing between them a name, they can at least be sure with what they’re not.

\--

Boland Motors re-opens a week later with brand new sales that draw crowds in, even though they had to be closed down for a while to get everything back in order. She tugs the window shutters closed in her office, wanting a little privacy to eat her lunch before she has to get back out on the sales floor.

She takes her business jacket off, setting it on the back of her chair as she sits down at her desk. The layout of her office is generally the same, with her ‘Avocado’ painted desk, black leather couch against the far window and two matching chairs. She’s made sure to get new picture frames for her photographs of her and her kids and even has a few of Marcus’s drawings near the door where the coatrack is.

There’s a knock on her door and she sighs as she takes the lid off of her salad, wondering if she ignores it if they’ll go away…but she knows better than that as the door opens.

“Carol, I just need fifteen minutes—”

“Afternoon, Ms. Boland,” Her gaze lands on Rio, smiling as he leans against the doorframe. “Sure I can’t take five outta that fifteen?”

She rolls her eyes but a soft laugh escapes her lips, motioning him inside as she puts the lid back on her salad. Rio walks in and lets the door close behind him, dressed in black jeans and a navy-blue dress shirt that’s buttoned all the way up. It somehow highlights the wingspan of the bird on his neck, too distracting as it is and, damn, she’s got work to do.

“Something I can help you with?”

He smiles, his hands clasping behind his back as he walks towards her desk. “Dealership looks good, nice to see it back up and runnin’.”

Beth nods, leaning back against her desk chair. “Feels good too. You come by to buy a dad van?”

Rio taps his fingers along the edge of her desk, scrunching his nose just a bit at the color before he licks his lips. “Nah. We gotta drive a car somewhere tonight. Got a buyer.”

She takes her black book out from her drawer and turns to a page to scribble down the make and model of the car they’re taking to switch one in tomorrow morning. “Alright, I’m closing up around eight. You can come back then.”

He hums as she puts the book away, taking a step back from her desk and really giving it a once over before he looks at other parts of her office. He smiles at the drawings from Marcus, tugging one at the corner.

“You know…I think you’re forgettin’ somethin’ in this office.”

Beth frowns and stands up from her desk, moving out and around it to where he’s standing. She takes a quick inventory, trying to figure out what she’s missed—yeah, she could probably use another filing cabinet, maybe another light stand from IKEA but other than that?

“What?”

Rio turns suddenly and wraps his hands around her waist, lifting her up onto her desk, the wood creaking slightly. A surprised gasp leaves her lips, smile breaking out onto her face as he slips between her legs, looking down at her.

She’s overwhelmed with the heat of his body pressed against her, his scent of cologne and fresh laundry mixed with something that’s distinctly him crashing down over her like a wave. She looks up at him, his hand moving to brush hair out of her face.

He leans down to speak against her mouth, “Breakin’ in the desk.”

Beth wraps her arms around his shoulders, her one hand already unbuttoning his shirt. “That’s going to take more than five minutes,” barely leaves her lips before he’s kissing her.

**Author's Note:**

> hope it was enjoyable :3 feel free to come talk to me on tumblr! blainesebastian.tumblr.com/ask


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